


Turning Tables

by Malind



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Death, Dimension Travel, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Low Impulse Control, M/M, Mania, Murder, Psychopathology & Sociopathy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-22 19:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6092038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malind/pseuds/Malind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spiderman has had enough, and Deadpool must save the man he, er...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katelena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katelena/gifts).



> Disclaimer: The Spiderman and Deadpool universes and characters are owned by Marvel. I make no profit from this fanfiction.

The smoggy air filled his lungs with each heavy, adrenaline-filled breath. The sticky feel of web shooting from his wrists twisted his insides with pleasure. The ground rushed underneath him as he swung from building to building.  It was like flying.  There was no greater pleasure than it in the world, except, he supposed, for the end of the escapade.

Capturing the criminal to face justice, yeah, that was the best.  But the web-slinging was a damn close second. 

Spiderman caught sight of his prey just ahead, cutting into an alleyway.  The guy had already caught sight of him as well and knew what was coming next:  a guaranteed seat in jail.  The man's pounding footsteps just barely made more noise than his panting, raging breaths.  Sometimes, Peter almost felt sorry for them.  Okay, well, he never did.  They'd made their decision to break the law, after all.  It was his job to make them see the errors of their ways.

The web swooped him into the alley.  His body twisted and landed right in front of the ruddy man.  He had to back up a step as the man came to a skidding halt.

"Do me a favor and stand against the wall.  If you aren't looking for pain, anyway."

Half-crazed eyes darted about as the man tried to look for a way out.  That was until the man suddenly flung to the right, smashing into the building.  He screeched in obvious agony.  It took a split second to see the reason for the ramming: a sword stuck out of the backside of the man's shirt, firmly implanted into the building, probably having given the criminal a good slice along the back.  Already Peter saw a line of darkness wetting the back of his black clothes. 

He knew that sword...

Spiderman growled and stalked over to the wiggling, whining man.  As blood starting dripping to the ground, he supposed he couldn't be too hard of the guy.  It probably hurt.  He gripped the sword, yanked it out of the stucco building, and tossed it to the ground.

"Stop sticking your junk where it doesn't belong," he called out.

"Ah, come on, baby-boy, don't be like that," Deadpool purred, materializing seemingly out of nowhere from atop a dumpster.  "I was just trying to help you out!"

"The last thing I need is your help."  Spiderman turned a bit to glare at the other man, a hand on his hip, the other holding the burglar against the wall.  "And _please_ stop calling me that. I call you by your 'name'.  You can at least _try_ to use mine."  He locked the struggling man down with a web and mumbled mostly to himself, "And I swear if you call me that again..."

He didn't bother to finish the sentence.  No matter what he said or did, Deadpool kept calling him pet names.  Kept interfering like some crazy stalker.  Kept getting so close that it made his skin crawl.

Just like at the moment when the bald man's chin hung on his shoulder to get a better look at the captured man, the bloody sword going back into his scabbard with a shink. 

"Just seeing you work, baby-boy...  It sends heat right up my spine.  Or wait."  The man's lower half suddenly got disturbing close, grinding slightly.  "Maybe it's not my spine..."

Right after slamming a web over the burglar's face to stop his irritating begging's for mercy, Spiderman planted his hand over mercenary's face and shoved him back.  "Ah, respectable distance, please.  And now I have to call the police _and_ the paramedics.  So what you did, no, that wasn't helping."

"But you're going to tell them the truth, right?" The other man looked over his shoulder again, watching Peter whip out his cellphone.

"Huh?  What are you talking about?"

"I single handedly captured this guy!  Tell me there's a bounty on him!"

The brunette jerked away a step to the side and glared.  "No, there isn't a bounty.  The guy robbed a jewelry store."

"Ohhh..."  Deadpool nodded, his hand to his chin.  "So the bounty's already on him!"

"What?!  No!"  Spiderman slammed his hand on the other man's chest when he tried to walk past him, swords already drawn.

"Outa my way.  There's butchering to be had tonight."

"Are you crazy?!"  Okay, it was a stupid question.  "The merchandise is going back to the store and he's going to jail.  No disemboweling.  And, no, you're not taking anything."

The man stilled and crossed his arms over his chest, swords pointed up.  "Really..."  A sword tapped Spiderman's shoulder.  Peter had to fight to hold his ground.  The last thing he wanted was Deadpool turning on him, as that would make the whole episode just that much more complete.  "You do realize this is going to cost you then.  I don't apprehend criminals for free."

"Yeah, I know, you’ve told me before.  Repeatedly.  But you know what?  You call them then."  He shoved his phone at the other man's chest.  "Maybe there _is_ a bounty.  You go for it.  Go get all the bounty that grisly miniscule heart of yours desires."

Deadpool's jaw dropped, or at least Peter had to assume it was a drop with the mask on, and put his swords back into the sheathes.  "I was fucking kidding!  Help me, you are soooo sensitive!"  The mercenary shook his head, hands on his hips, _clearly_ dejected.  "Daddy beat you, didn't he?  Mamma didn't love you?  Got teased by the kids, bullied, tied up, took it up the ass?  Tell me, man. I can take it. I can handle that truth, damn it!"

Breathing heavily, ready to kick the man's ass, Spiderman merely yanked his phone back and started stalking away, hitting '9-1-1'.

The bald man huffed a series of laughs.  Every one jolted the brunette's very soul.  "You were going to cry right there, weren't you?  Have you ever seen a grown man cry?  It's a sad, sad sight.  Hey, but I tell you what, I can help you with that.  Make a man out of you.  You just have to bend over that trashcan there and I'll take care of the rest."  The man gripped Peter's shoulder, and whispered next to his ear, "Daddy'll take care of that pretty little ass of yours."

Spiderman heard a, "What is your emergency?" right before he hung up, turned around, and stared wide-eyed at the other man who inadvertently backed up a step.  "You...  You just can't shut up, can you?  You just keep going and going and Going and GOIng and GOING.  Do you have even the slightest clue how your mouth closes?"  He took a couple of steps forward, closing the distance before the other man stepped back another.  "Seriously now, I want to know if you understand the concept.  Tell me:  How does a person shut up?"  He tapped the phone to his chin, mocking contemplation.  "I think I know how _you'd_ shut someone up.  You'd take that little pencil you've got between your legs and jam it into their underwhelmed mouth, am I right?"  Peter yanked at the closure at the crotch of his suit. 

Deadpool's eyes went wide as he backed up another step.  "Wha-"

"Well, if that's the only way I can shut you up," Spiderman ground out, refusing to stop his advance, hiding his phone back in his suit, "then you can choke on my dick while I ram it down your throat."

"Okay, okay, slow down there!  Can't take a fucking joke, can you?"

"What? You don't want it now?"  Spiderman backed him up to a wall.  "Here's your chance.  You've been begging for it for how long?  Now get down on your knees."

Needless to say, the brunette wasn't hard in the least, but that didn't take away from the satisfaction of the absolute shock impressed even through Deadpool's mask, in the tenseness of his body, as Peter pressed his own body against the other man's, swords clanking against the wall, since, well, the other man obviously wasn't falling to his knees any time soon.  Peter ground his hips, the other man breathing heavily, then closed his eyes as he did feel a stirring.

"Okay, okay, just, just, just," the bald man forced out, his hands coming to Spiderman's chest. "Calm down, calm down.  Shit."  Deadpool suddenly moaned and then jerked to the side, slinking away, putting out his hands in a clear indication to stay the hell back. "Just-just hold that thought.  I'll be back in a second."

Spiderman watched as the man raced down the alleyway and around the corner, and then adjusted himself, plucked the phone back out of his suit, called 911 again, and web-slung out of the alley, not bothering to wait for a return he knew wasn't happening.  He needed a cold shower anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

[ If this doesn't work, we all know the next step is hogtieing him. ]

_{ And I'm looking forward to it, but he's not going to just flop to the ground for us. One of us is going to lose something. Him preferably. }_

[ No, better us than him.  Like it would matter to us.  Him on the other hand... ]

_{ Masochist. }_

[ Sadist. ]

_{ *Bite* }_

[ *Purr* ]

"Well, let's hope he noticed what I did," Deadpool sighed out languorously, not really paying attention to the words rolling around, still stuck on the fantasy of a hogtied Spiderman in agonizing detail.

The man in his head was all skin, sweat, groans, straining muscles, welts, and pleading eyes begging him for some mercy. Yeah, he'd give that mercy all right.  He licked his lips with pelvic thrust.  "Mm, yeah."  Or better yet, have both him and Spiderman hogtied, torsos thrashing about in union, all on a bed of a thousand nice, round, bouncy boobies.  He salivated.  "Oh yeah.  That's what I'm fucking talking about."

With the grace of a gymnast, Spiderman flung his lean body out of the alleyway, swooping with the bungee cord like web, his legs out if front of him, highlighting the nice round, mouthwatering curve of his ass.

_{ Man, we coulda tapped that...  You just had to run, didn't you, pencil dick? }_

Wade gritted his teeth for a moment at the memory of Peter's words and why he'd run, before growling, "We all know from very personal experience that it's considerably larger than a pencil."

_{ Just keep telling yourself that. }_

With another throaty growl, he watched the spandex-clad figure go out of sight.  He looked down at the phone in his hand.  The pinpoint of light moved steadily in the direction Spiderman was.   _Looking good._  Following the dot, he sprinted over the rooftops lining the streets.  The dot was moving faster though.

[ Move it.  He's getting away. ]

"You think I can't see that?"

Time to improvise.  He stopped on the roof, putting the phone in a pouch.  The familiar rumble of a beastly pink scooter chugged around the corner below him, the lone moving vehicle to be seen in the dead of night.  Couldn't fight fate, especially with the sirens drawing near.  Wade jumped off the building, landing right on the elongated seat behind the woman. 

The redhead screeched, jamming on the breaks and coming to a sudden halt, almost flipping them both off.  She jerked her torso around to stare at him wide-eyed.  When she opened her mouth to scream again, he slammed a gloved hand over it.  His other hand brought up Moe and cocked it.

"Official business, Ma'am.  I must commandeer your vehicle.  So get the fuck off!  Please."  To emphasize the request, he gave her a good shove in the face, her jean-covered backside landing on the road with a yelp.  "Thank you for your understanding.  I'll leave it for you... somewhere." 

With a salute, he puttered off down the road, noting that the pink of the scooter was a perfect match to his favorite tutu.  Delighted, he smiled ear to ear and hummed out a little tune as he dug the phone back out and traced Spiderman's location.  The other man had managed to get a few more blocks ahead.  He headed in that direction, and eventually came to a city park.

Deadpool cocked his head, holding up the phone.  The other man appeared to be in the park and not moving anymore.  _Curious..._   Did Spiderman frequent the bathrooms where all the men hung out?  He parked the scooter and prowled farther in on foot.

When he was just a few hundred feet away from the dot, the dot started moving again.  He ducked behind a large elm and peaked around the side.  And...

The man, carrying a backpack, who walked out of the trees to a side walk and under a light was...  Wade flattened himself against the tree.

[ That's...  Peter Parker? ]

_{ No, it couldn't be. Unless...  Peter Parker and Spiderman are having butt-sex in the park! And Peter gets his kinks from wearing Spiderman's suit after! }_

Stunned with the prospect, Wade's jaw dropped.  "Fuck me hard!"

[ Or, let's be logical here and consider that maybe Peter Parker IS Spiderman! ]

"No. Way."

Staying as far away as he felt was safe, Deadpool followed this revelation of a man through the business district and neighborhoods, until they finally came to an apartment building.  He'd known where Peter Parker lived before that moment, from a previous job that had gone south, but now...  Now things were going to get interesting.

From the street, he watched Spiderman's light come on.  It took a good hour, but then the light turned off and the bedroom light turned on.  Within ten minutes, that light turned off too.  Wade waited for another half an hour before he dared to climb the wall and peek inside the bedroom window.  He couldn't see any movement.  He wanted to see movement.  He wanted to see Peter.

[ Investigative purposes? ]

_{ Sounds like a fucking fantastic reason to me! }_

"Agreed," the bald man murmured with a nod.  "The more we know, the safer he'll be, after all."

That sounded reasonable, right?

He climbed around the building to the fire escape, picked the lock, and entered the main hallway for that floor of the building.  Down a few doors, he came to the one he was looking for.  It took a minute to pick that lock and to get the deadbolt undone, but soon enough, he was inside the apartment and making his way to the bedroom on silent feet.

The door was cracked open. A gloved hand pushed it cautiously, but it made no sound.  He slipped in like a breath of air and made his way to the back of the room to one side of the window.  From that angle, the lights from the street beamed in and graced the sleeping form.

Peter was sprawled out on his belly, his top naked, his bottom covered by a sheet and what looked to be pajama bottoms just peaking out.  His hair seemed darker than usual, and Deadpool assumed Peter had taken a shower.  His pale skin almost glowed in the dim light.  Wade's fingers itched to touch it.

[ Aww, he's like an angel when he sleeps. ]

_{ Are you thinking what I'm thinking? }_

"Hell yeah...  For DNA research purposes, of course."  Wade unzipped his crotch with excited, trembling fingers.  He whipped out the stiff length there, sliding his fingers over it.  "See, I told you it's not pencil sized."  The touch burned as much as it brought him pleasure. But he was used to the pain.  It was the pleasure he chased down like a rabid dog.

*fap.  Fap.  Fap* "Oh yeah, baby-boy, you lay there just like that and take it.  Nice and slow." *fap. Fap. Fap, fap, fap*

The brunette stirred slightly.  Wade stood board still, his dick in his hand, holding his breath, for a few seconds.  When all seemed quiet:

*fap, fap, fap* "Take that shit." *fap, fap, fap, fap, fap*

Peter tumbled onto his back and then bolted to sit upright, staring right in his direction.  Yeah, he was caught.  Deadpool sucked in a breath and dashed into the cracked-open closet, slamming the door shut behind himself.  And that same something between his legs called to him.

*fap, fap, fap, fap*

"Deadpool?"  Disbelief etched the name as it seeped through the door, the man disturbingly close. 

*fap, fap, fap* "Hold on."  *fap* "I'm almost done." *fap, fap* "Just give me a second." *fap, fap, fap, fap* "Almost, almost." *fap, fap, fap, fap* "For fuck's sake, say something!  Help me out here!" *fap, fap* "Scream or something!  What kind of-"

The door yanked open.

Deadpool shielded his chest and crotch.  "Don't look at me!"  

Then the bald man blinked as he swore sunlight beamed from Peter's gorgeous face.  God, the man looked so fucking hot standing there with his wide-open, begging-to-be-fucked mouth.

_{ Yeah, I know you're thinking what I'm thinking. }_

"Hold on."  Wade turned around, facing the inside of the closet. *fap, fap, fap, fap*

"Wade, don't you dare jizz all over my clothes!"

*fap, fap* "Oh yes!  Say my name!" *fap, fap, fapfapfap*

"Oh my god, please stop!" *fapfap* "Wade!" *fapfapfapfapfapfapfap* "You fucking jackass!"

Crying out, the orgasm hit him like a sledgehammer, over and over again, until he was grabbing at the clothes in front of him, smearing his cum all over them.  "Peter, oh Peter," the man choked out, "You're the fucking best!"

[ Hey, the man should be happy!  You actually called him by his name for once. ]

"Hell yeah."


	3. Chapter 3

The mercenary's trembling body barely held up its own weight, gripping at Peter's clothing as if its life depended on it.  The smell of sweat, musk, and sex pulsed out of the closet and into the brunette's face with every movement and struggle for breath.

Wide-eyed, Peter watched man, unable to take his eyes off of him.  And for various reasons.

Partly because Spiderman wanted to grab the bastard and throw him out of the window before the spandex-clad man could do any more damage to, well, his mind, never mind his clothing. 

And on the other end, partly because...

_'Peter, oh Peter, you're the fucking best!'_

Peter found his stomach and throat tightening at the memory of the heartfelt words.  And they had been heartfelt, Peter knew. Well, at least they had been moments before.

 _'I'm not that good,'_ tried to edge out of the brunette's lips, but he refused to let it go, to bring attention to himself and insecurities.  He'd dealt with the things for far too many years and definitely didn't need to bring someone else into them. 

For that matter, Peter really didn't like attention in any capacity, for any reason.  And that was because he didn't trust people, hadn't trusted them since he was a child when they'd gone out of their way to abuse him in so many ways. And his distrust had only grown so much worse over the years as people proved time and again to be horrid creatures, even if their exteriors were pleasant. 

Perhaps, though, Peter knew, his own lack of openness was the reason why the abuse had never stopped to this day, and in a city that would have practically hung him for being Spiderman. 

No, there wasn't a soul out there who could really question Peter's impulse to keep everyone at a distance.  After all, he wore a literal and figurative mask and kept his identity a secret unlike some other 'heroes,' like Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, and, hell, even Bruce Banner.  Even Wade Wilson's identity was known to whoever wanted to know, the man not caring who knew what despite his criminal activities.

And that brought up one other reason why Peter continued to stare at Wade's back:  some unwelcome part of him didn't want this madman to wise up and do the same as other people: abuse him.  That desire was in Peter no matter how much the bald man's presence grated on him.  Because, at the moment at least, apparently the last thing Wade wanted to do was abuse him, and Peter didn't have a clue as to why.

Why _did_ this man...

Peter closed his eyes and blew out a shaky breath.  He forced his thoughts to something probably easier to solve: 

How had Wade managed to track him down without him noticing? 

Granted, Spiderman was rarely able to sense obvious, specific danger from Deadpool, a mercenary who was always a boiling-over pot of scattered thoughts and urges.  Surely Wade even pissed fate off.  

But still...

 _There's no way he could have kept up with me and stayed far enough away that I wouldn't have noticed him... He must have put a tracker on me when he was..._  

Peter's mind unwittingly ran through every touch, every breath in that alleyway. His body responded again to just the memory of it.  He swallowed through a small shake of his head, trying to rid himself of the derailing thoughts.

_It has to be the reason.  Yeah, he's touched me before, but never like that... Never like..._

Opening his eyes again, Peter couldn't help his half laugh, an extremely vain attempt to distract his mind and body.  This panting, half-out-of-it man had managed not only to get the better of him, he'd also managed to get Peter into a complete uproar in that alleyway.

_And I let it happen. I joined in on it.  ...Enthusiastically at that._

The vision of pushing against other man's body, trapping him against the wall.  Peter could admit it: it had felt too good.  Well, not at first, but...

The thoughts dashed away as Wade seemed to regain enough of his wits to turn back around.  Peter couldn't help but zero in on the man's semi-erect cock.  And no, it wasn't the size of a pencil. 

Spiderman jammed a hand at the bald man's shoulder, halting the turnaround.  "Good God, could you at least put it back in?"

Grinning through the mask, Wade's head turned more to eye him instead, and, with a lazy drawl, Deadpool purred, "In where exactly, lover?"

Peter growled, his eyes clenching shut for a moment, before he twirled around, stalked to his bed, and dropped his ass onto the bed, burying his face in his hands.  Through them, he forced out, "Will you just go before I make you pay for my dry-cleaning?" 

Several quiet moments dripped by. When Peter didn't hear any movement, when the bald man said nothing, feeling Wade's stare, Peter raised his head and, with the visual confirmation of the other man's stare, felt his pulse pound.  He realized then just how precarious his own life had become. After all, Deadpool was known for many things, including his notoriously big mouth.

"You... You're not going to say anything, are you?" Wade still didn't react. "...You do know who I am, right?"

Deadpool cocked his head to the side, just staring at him, his dick jutting out. 

Peter groaned and reburied his face. "Please... Please don't tell anyone...  Unless..." Peter huffed humorlessly. "Unless you're going pay for my identity change too."

Wade didn't say a thing, merely stood there, grating on him all the more.  How had he ever allowed Wade to get the better of him, especially when it now laid his overall security, his whole life, in the mercenary's untrustworthy hands?  

For someone who was supposedly a genius, who could sense danger before it happened, he'd been so stupid.

When nearly a minute passed, Peter finally looked back up, opening his mouth to say something, anything, the silence unbearable.  The other man's mouth was moving, mumbling something.  Peter watched with morbid fascination, his jaw still dropped a bit.  He'd always known the mercenary wasn't all with it.  That fact was impossible to miss.

And now this unpredictable man was in his bedroom of all places and...  And Peter didn't know anymore what he wanted to do about it.

Wade took a step forward, out of the closet, and crossed his arms over his chest.  Smirking, he murmured, "Baby-boy, I'm not going to really leave and whatever else, BUT I'll leave and keep my mouth shut if you pay me back for earlier.  And the time before that."  Deadpool nodded pursing his lips, twirling his hand.  "Hell, even for the times you don't know about.  And so on and so forth."

Still slightly damp, wavy nose-length bangs got into Peter's face as he shook his head at the absurd group of statements, but especially at the very sentence. 

What the hell was he going to do about this situation that seemed to have no true outs? How could he save himself? He could already see himself homeless, jobless, being chased around by pitchfork-wielding city folk who didn't seem to understand that Spiderman was _trying_ to help them, whether or not they believed that fact or ever said thank you.

In the end though, perhaps because of a mix of a lack of sleep, misery, and godforsaken curiosity as to what Wade would say, although he already had ideas, but mostly just because he wanted this all to end in one way or another, Peter blurted out, "Fine, what do you want from me?"

Lapdog anyone? The moment after he said the words, he felt bile rise. A hero wasn't supposed to be like this.  Wasn't supposed to give in.  A hero was supposed to be, well, heroic, someone everyone else strived to reach up and touch.  

But...  But, at that moment, he was just so, so tired.  So exhausted from always trying to sit upon a pedestal of perfection he knew he would never hold him.

Of course... just a short time before, he definitely hadn't been perfect... Hadn't even tried to be.

_I'm already on a roll.  Is it really so bad to give in, just this once? Can't I be stupid, selfish every once in a while, like everyone else can be?_

His uncle's smiling face slipped into the forefront of his mind, as well as the criminal who'd shot him dead, the same man who Peter had allowed to wander off free. He reminded himself then how good he was at lying to himself, almost as good as he was at telling himself the truth.

Peter refocused on the man before him, whom he should have already thrown out the window.  He found himself resting his palms behind himself on the bed, supporting himself as he curved the back of his naked torso. He waited and watched to see what the other man would do, found himself wanting to know what Wade would do.

Deadpool grinned at the obvious lack of fight and strolled forward, practically skipping, semi-hard length bouncing. The man seemed to enjoy every one of brunette's heavy breaths.

Peter's heart thudded then, bringing sweat to his skin.  In those few moments, he almost settled his mind on a straight-out no. 

And then Wade was in front of him, the cock impossible to miss without closing one's eyes, amusement in his grin that showed through the mask. That Wade could take Peter's life so lightly...  The brunette didn't know whether he should rage or cry at everything.  Neither would have helped him, though, and probably only would have pleased Wane all the more, so he didn't bother.

Peter let his legs be spread as Deadpool pushed his way between them.  He expected Wade to grab his hair and yank his mouth to his cock.  Instead, surprising him, the other man got down onto his knees and then sat down on the floor with his legs to the side, the top of his half-hard cock resting against Peter's bare foot.  The covered head pushed against Peter's soft groin. Gasping, Peter almost shoved the man away, but after years of practicing self-control, he somehow managed to contain himself.  

_Breathe, just breathe._

For a good couple of minutes, the head merely pushed lightly at him, as if Deadpool was a kitten, well, a leopard.  Perhaps he merely wanted to test how long Peter could stay soft underneath the flannel fabric.  After a couple of minutes, the brunette definitely had a growing hardness that had him panting and closing his eyes. 

Two gloved hands pawed at the waistband of his pajama bottoms, pulling them outward, releasing what was there.  And Peter tensed up.  He couldn’t help it. 

Having this man at such a vulnerable spot, being exposed almost completely to him...  Any sensible person would have been scared.  And he still had some sense in him. For instance, what if, in a brilliant impulsive moment, Deadpool decided he wanted to bite it off?  Once the man got his teeth over him, there'd be little he could do about it. 

The bald man lifted the bottom of his mask up, and Peter breathed heavily at the sight of his scarred, bruised, sore-ridden flesh he could only see traces of in dim light.

Closing his eyes, his mind whimpered, _'Please don't bite it off.  God, please have some mercy on me...  Please...'_

Where the hell had all his rationality gone?  He could have stopped, well, at least most of this when it had started.  Yet he hadn't.  

He bit his bottom lip, trying not to think about the last time someone had touched him this way, at least in a similar way.  It had been a long time.  Too long.  But still...  

He couldn’t be that hard up, right?  He bit his lip harder in his anticipation.  Right?!

Well, apparently he was.

A gloved hand gripped the base, combing through the coarse hair there.  Peter was close to tears as the first touch of the man's lips made him suck in his breath.  The touch was feather light against his semi-hardness.  He couldn't relax into it though.  He sat there, stiff, trying to control a body that wanted to bolt from the room for many reasons.

Like a baby, the man at his groin sucked just the tip for a few moments, making Peter hiss and squirm his hips, then popped off.  The popping sound echoed in the quiet room.  Wane did it repeatedly, agonizingly, until the erection was rock hard. 

After that, anytime Peter cock showed signs of deflating, the mercenary did it again and again.  It soon drove the shorter man crazy, making him want to shove Wade away and take care of himself in the manner his body deemed worthy.  And he'd thought he'd been near tears before...

Really, this man didn't seem to be doing it with any real purpose outside of an unmerciful fascination with Peter's body.  Or maybe with his mind.  Or both.  It felt more like torture than anything.

After nearly five minutes, Peter tried to push the mercenary away, to touch himself and bring a quick release, but Wade grabbed his hands, shoving them down to either side of his body. 

After ten minutes, the sun just starting to redden the horizon, all Peter could do was cringe and try to not cry out his misery and lust. 

"Please," he breathed instead, "God...  I'm not a toy."

Deadpool seemed to disagree as he continued. 

Eventually, an orgasm built up slowly but steadily, Peter's body more than ready to come whether it got touched the way it wanted it or not.  He ground his hips, trying to get more contact, but the more he tried, the longer Wade waited until he reclaimed the length.  A gloved hand released his own and slid in between his legs, into his bottoms, pulling down on his tightening sack, warding off his impending release.  Peter growled his frustration as his head dropped back.  

Surely the other man was trying to kill him and in an extremely odd but nonetheless horrible way.  Or at least give him a serious case of blueballs.

Then penetrating his foggy, drowning mind, a voice called out down the hallway, "Pancakes are almost ready!"

Making himself dizzy with the sudden movement, Peter jerked his head to stare unsteadily at the door.  That voice had sounded like-

"Mm-OTHER! Ff-UCKER!" burst out of Deadpool's mouth after his head jutted up from Spiderman's heated lap, arresting a wide-eyed Peter with the enflamed frenzy contained within the words. Wade bolted upright and tore off out of the door, a ridged length flopping the whole way.


	4. Chapter 4

[ That fucker wasn't lying... It's another one. ]

_{ Whatever.  We'll kill this one too. Peter is ours. }_

[ Yes, kill it. Kill it. ]

_{ Yes, oh yes, kill that fucker. }_

When had the hallway become so red? It dripped blood. Wade shook his head aggressively, trying to rid himself of the color, not realizing it was cast by the morning sun.

[ Kill it! ]

_{ Cut that fucker's head off! Make it bleed. }_

But no. No. There was a reason to _not_ make this 'thing' bleed. _Peter. Peter. Pumpkin eater. Had a wife, and couldn't keep her!_

"Yeah, fuck THAT shit. He's fucking mine," he snarled under his breath as he turned the corner into the kitchen. Peter was his, no one else's. The sooner everyone got that into their heads, the better. And he'd literally jam it into their fucking heads, if that's what it took.

_He, no, I'll put him in a pumpkin shell, and there I'll kept him very well!_

Wade grinned.

_{ **That** sounds like a plan to me. }_

Yes.  He had to protect Peter, keep him safe, even from 'himself'. Whatever that took, and whoever died in the process, he'd do it, gladly.

[ But perhaps we _should_ keep the blood off the floor? Peter, you know. ]

"Yeah, I know," he mumbled, "I know. I know I know I know!"

The Deadpool at the stove was in his own little world, swinging his hips, singing a little song: "...you stack it higher and higher. It's a Pancake Party!"

He knew that song. That was his song! "FUCKER! _"_

The other man jerked his head up to look at him. That was all the reaction Wade allowed, as he slammed a grabbed cutting board down on the hand on the counter, making the man shriek, most likely more from dismay than pain.  While his alternate self raised his crippled hand, probably wondering how the pleasant morning, filled with the sweet aroma of pancakes, had gone so horribly wrong, Wade grabbed the saranwrap on the counter, yanked the plastic end out, and wrapped it around the other man's head, repeatedly, slamming his face squarely against the counter with each one until the whole front of the clear material was red, blotting out any chance of sight.

During this, he barely felt the whaps of the spatula. He did however feel the increasingly strong tingle of the frying pan slamming against his face, repeatedly. Damn waste of a pancake.

When he heard Peter's pounding feet leave the bedroom, he dragged the weakly struggling man to the window in the dining area, opened it, and threw the mess of a body out, the screen tumbling with it down four stories.

Wade turned his head and stared at the man whose taste still lingered in his mouth.  At the kitchen's doorway, Peter had the Spiderman suit up just over his narrow hips and the mask covering his head, the rest of him still deliciously bare.  Then the man yanked the mask off, staring at him with eyes that screamed.  Peter looked...

[ I know that look. He's going to run from us. ]

_{ God, he's so fuckable. }_

"Yeah," Wade mumbled to both ideas. "But I still need to kill 'it', whatever he thinks..." Then he offered the other man a crooked grin, "Don't wait up for me, baby-boy."

And then he was out the window, unable to bear the look on Peter's face any more.  _I'm doing this for him.  Him, damn it!  Can't he understand that?!_ He thought that as he dropped down and landed, with a satisfying crunch, on the body lying half on the street, half on the sidewalk.  The uneven squishiness tipped him, making him stumble.  Then he slammed his boot on his face with another loud crunch. 

_{ He hates you now, you sorry sack of shit. }_

"SHUT UP," Deadpool roared on the nearly empty street, before he yanked on the arm of the crippled, unconscious man, dragging him down the street.  He should have drove the damn scooter here.

Luckily, he knew, from an internet search just two days before, there was a funeral home with a cremation chamber just a few blocks back down towards the business district.  He'd memorized all of them in the city because of what the other sobbing 'Deadpool' had said at the end of the interrogation: "They're going to come here too.  You have no idea how much blood...  And there won't be enough chimichangas in the world to satisfy them, and certainly not enough of _him_.  He's going to die...  So much blood."

The few people up that early who saw him rightfully stared and then mostly ran away, reclosed their doors, or drove faster.  He wasn't exactly unknown in the city, although he was _generally_ a tad more hidden than this.  But he didn't give a fuck what they saw or did as long as they stayed the hell out of his way.  

Minutes later, after a few more interspaced kicks to the head, sirens blaring again nearby, he found his way into the funeral home, breaking open the side door with a few shots from Larry.  He wasted no time in finding the correct interior room, starting the contraption up, and shoving the weakly struggling body inside of it, despite the sure lack of oxygen from the saranwrap.  He dug a shielded padlock out of a pouch and locked the metal door shut.

A couple of minutes later, he heard the thrashing, the angered cries.  The other one had screamed like this too.  Maybe this was a pain beyond bearing.  Or perhaps the man was just pissed the hell off.  He supposed if their positions had been reversed...

_{ Burn, bitch. }_

Wade grinned.

Beyond the screams, the overall morning inside the inner room was rather quiet, lulling.  With time to contemplate while he waited, Wade leaned against the nearby smooth, white wall, sighing.  His eyes drifting downwards, he noticed the limp cock still hanging free. 

[ Hmm, I guess we now know why people were running for their lives. ]

_{ Oh, Wade, Wade, Wade.  Now everyone knows about your pencil dick. }_

Wade gritted his teeth, zippering back up, and readjusted his mask too.  "Whatever. I bet half of those people got a hard-on from seeing heaven and ran home to blow a load."

They laughed at him, not with him.

With a shake of his head, he took to pacing, his head twisting again and again to the metal chamber door as the internal temperature stayed a rather steady 1568 degrees.  There was no way he'd chance someone coming in and interrupting the process.  After an hour, it took everything in him to not start screaming, not even really knowing why the urge was there.   The waiting...  Why was he even waiting?

[ I think it's dead. Let it burn. We should go. ]

A face that radiated sun pierced his mind and sent him back out the door. "Peter," he said, a prayer, a curse to his messed up, confusing head. 

_{ So, we hogtieing him or locking him up in a pumpkin? }_

[ Quiet, he's probably not even there anymore. ]

Those words ate at him and made his legs move faster.  "Don't fucking say that!"  But he knew it was probably true.  The man had been scared of him, disgusted with him, angry with him.  He'd seen the hate in his eyes.

It wasn't until he exited the inner bowels of the funeral home that he knew something was very wrong.  Screams, gunshots, and crashes pounded the air.  He ran harder, swung open the door, and stopped dead in his tracks. 

Outside, it was a warzone.  Blood and bodies lined the streets.  People ran in every direction.  But a good portion of them were converging towards Peter's home.  Every other person or more was, well, a Deadpool.  His mind could barely comprehend it. 

"What. The. Fuck!?"

The Deadpool from two days prior definitely hadn't been lying.

One near him grabbed an elderly lady trying to get into her car, shaking her, screaming "Where's Spiderman?!"

A group of Deadpools, all wearing red bandannas on their masked heads, moved in multiple lines towards Peter's apartment, flipping their bodies over cars, jumping over rooftops.  One of them called out, "Down this street!  I heard he's this way!"

A few wandering Deadpools, including the one who dropped the old woman, looked to that Deadpool. 

Another one in a red bandanna barked, "Shut up, asshole!  I'm not sharing this one!" 

A moment later, that Deadpool stopped dead in his tracks as another Deadpool proofed out of nowhere behind him, grabbing him about the upper chest, and sliced his head clean off.  The head rolled off the car's roof.  The body dropped.  Then the standing mercenary squeezed something in his hand and disappeared again.  It all happened in a mere breath.  Then the first one who'd shouted went down in a bloody mess, then two more, severed heads gurgling, still quite alive. 

Wide-eyed, the _real_ Deadpool raced forward, drawing Curly, pointing in some direction, crying out, "He's this way!  THIS WAY!" 

Deadpool heads turned towards him.  And then the one he wanted grabbed him about shoulders, a sword already at his throat.  But Wade's arm was already over his own shoulder.  With no time wasted, he pulled the trigger as the blade drew blood.  He gagged at the pressure, his breaths already haywire, but then the blade flung away as the body behind him hurled to the side from the close proximity of the shot.  Wade whipped around and stared down at the unconscious man, or more specifically, at what he'd held. 

A cat-sized, collared, blue, demon-like creature looked up at him and was clearly unimpressed with the shift in ownership. Like Wade fucking cared.  Peter, he needed to get to Peter, and he knew this midget was the way. 

Wade grabbed the little tailed beasty, his only thought of Peter staring at him that last time from the kitchen, squeezed, and then: *BAMF*


	5. Chapter 5

When Deadpool jumped out of the window, Peter found himself still frozen, his mind no longer working, just staring out at the early morning for several long moments.  When he heard the screamed, "SHUT UP!" though, he jolted, and then closed his eyes, gripping the kitchen exit's frame to steady his swimming head.

Overall, hard-on long gone, this had been the most pleasurable, disorientating, horrifying mix of emotions he'd ever experienced in a twenty-minute period in his entire life. 

Was he still dreaming?  God, he hoped he was...

Hearing a woman's alarmed exclamation from the street broke him out of his trance.  After jamming his mask back on, he fought to get the suit the rest of the way on, as he hurried to the window, putting his head outside.  He saw Deadpool dragging... 

Peter still couldn't get, well, didn't want to get his head around what he was seeing.  Still... 

Two Deadpools?!  If he hadn't heard the other man's voice, he'd have thought it to be some disturbing coincidence, or a prank, or perhaps Wade having some crazed, obsessed groupie.  But the voice -had- been Wade's, however little sense that made.  A twin, maybe, who had no sense of individuality?  He supposed that made a tiny bit of sense, at least after admitting he knew next to nothing about Wade.

But if there were two Deadpools, then he had to question every single interaction he'd ever had with Wade, whether it had been one Deadpool or the other. 

And could there be more?

Peter yanked himself back inside, trying to rake a hand through his hair, forgetting about the mask.  Who exactly had been in his bedroom? Who had been making him pancakes of all things?  Were they in on it together?  Well, obviously not, with Deadpool dragging his other self down the street to who knew where.

It wasn't the first time he'd considered leaving this city, but this time was the first time he was ever serious enough to actually do it. So serious, if fact, that he started back towards his bedroom to pack his... cum covered clothes.

"That fucking bastard," Peter growled, utterly overwhelmed, not sure anymore who exactly he was cursing at.  

Then, Peter came to a dead stop, not even breathing, his Spidey sense going wild.  And that was when he heard: *BAMF* He turned back around, still holding his breath, edged with his back along the counter, and peeked around into the dining and living area.  And there was Deadpool. 

Well, ten Deadpools to be exact.  Three of them had the same build of the Deadpool he knew, two of them with a drawn sword and a small little blue doll in the other.  Another Deadpool was far too huge, a mountain of muscle and sinew.  One of them was a rather voluptuous woman whom, even from that distance, he knew he'd have to look up to, who then cocked a gun.  Another was a child-sized Deadpool holding two, er, lightsabers?  Two others were, well, a dog and a squirrel dressed up as Deadpools.  The other animal was a huge panda who had absolutely no problem standing upright like a human.  And the last one was...  A flying zombie-ish head?

Good God, he was stuck in some fucking nightmare.  Or hallucinating.  But he was nonetheless severely outmatched if even half of these guys had Deadpool's skills.

Peter jerked his head back, hiding, trying to not breathe, to make any sound, as his heart tried to burst from his chest.  A propeller purred by as the zombie-head zoomed past the kitchen, out the open window.

The woman said, "Keep a watch outside.  They don’t know exactly where this Peter is yet."  This Peter?! "But it won't take them long to figure it out. I'll take care of Peter."

One of the men Deadpools snorted.  "Bet you will."

There was a moment of silence before the boy Deadpool whined, "When am I ever going to get one?"

The same man or a different man with Wade's voice said, "When you sprout some hair someplace other than your head, little shit-meister."

The boy growled.

Spidey senses overloaded, even though he was keyed into every sound, Peter didn’t hear the dog's silent footsteps until its paws hit the linoleum of the kitchen floor.  He looked down at it, wide-eyed, and breathed out a shaky, "Shh-shhh-sh..."

The dog quirked its head, lifted its lip, and then let out a series of loud barks that chased Peter down the hallway as he fled back to the bedroom, more than ready to dive out the window.  Outside though, the zombie-head was suddenly slamming itself repeatedly against the window, trying to get at him.  Each rapid-fire crash jolted his body, until he growled at himself, "It's just a... disembodied Deadpool zombie head.  You can do this. You can do this!" 

Forcing down vomit, he started forward again, determined to crash through the window with or without a head trying to chomp at him, and his forearm was seized by a shockingly strong hand.  An elongated cuff slammed over his wrist, covering where his webs came out.  His other arm was grabbed in the same moment as he tried to twist around.  He managed to get one web out before that hand was shacked too.  He was thrown on the bed, chest-down, as if he was weightless.

Peter jerked his head, looking back, and saw the woman slicing at the web entangling her foot.  When he shoved his torso at the bed, trying to gain momentum and regain his footing, the woman jumped on him over his arms, slamming him back down.  She wasn't the heaviest mass in the world, but he had no way to gain true leverage, and quickly gave up trying to get it when the blade was placed at his neck.

"Calm down, little spider.  Hear what I have to say before you go hurting yourself.  If you don't like what I'm proposing, I'll let you go and we'll leave."

Yeah, he'd heard that kind of thing from Wane before.  It'd been bullshit.  Not having much choice at the moment though, he nodded.

"Smart," she purred, "But you always are. We don't have much time.  I'm not going to repeat myself, so listen carefully.  Right now, there's a horde of Deadpools coming to take you with them.  And I assure you, if you go with them, willingly or not, you will die."  The woman paused, making him try to turn his head so he could see her face, but with the mask, he couldn't read her expression.  Then she ran a hand over his masked head, petting him.  He wanted to fling his head away but the blade was too close. "...Or, if you come with us right now, we'll protect you with our very lives."

The caress continued down his neck, his back.  "Get off of me!"

She sighed, a tired sound.  "You don't have to make your decision just yet, but tell me, is Deadpool your mate in this world?  Or do you have another, someone you'd like to take with you?  If you do, it'll have to be an instant decision on their part.  There isn't the time to weigh all the options."

Deadpool his mate?  Was she kidding? 

This world?  What world was this woman from?

Someone...  Did he have someone?  It was an absurd question, but it shoved his pathetic life in his face all the more.  No, he had no one.

"I want an answer."

Peter gritted his teeth, trying to buck her off, but she was as agile as she was strong.  It made no difference.

"This is for your benefit, Peter."

"That's fucking bullshit!"

Then she was off of him, jerking him towards the bedroom window the Deadpool-head still fluttered outside of.  She pointed to the horizon, at a monstrous floating spaceship a short distance outside of town that took up the sky as far as he could see.  He couldn't help his dropping jaw.  "Do you see that out there?  That ship is for you.  On it, most of them, if not all of them, have a virus buried in their very DNA that will kill you if they touch you.  It's a painful death, and I promise you it'll make you scream as it eats you alive, long before you're dead."

Peter couldn't deny the ship and started to believe her words.  If she was really there just to capture him, surely she would have already done it, right?  Finding himself curious when he shouldn't have been, his scientific mind getting the better of him, he mumbled, "A virus?"

"Yes.  It's genetically coded to Deadpools, and only affects spiders and, well, you.  Although we know for certain it was engineered, we don't know its origins, otherwise we'd have stopped it before it started.  Those Deadpools on that ship, they've killed their Peters and they search for new ones.  They've killed so, so many...  We've been able to save far too few, and only after we realized what was happening. 

"Those Deadpools, some of them, perhaps even most of them, surely understand the truth, that just touching you will kill you.  And we've even tried to explain it to them...  But their sanity is gone.  They won't stop until they have you.  Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

He wished his mind couldn't comprehend what she was trying to tell him, but it did.  "Yes."

"I'm giving you a choice because we have no desire to keep you prisoner.  We've tried that before and it doesn't work out so well.  You must come of your own free will.  Mind you, not all Peters do come with us, but the ones who have are safe and sound in another dimension.  We'll take you there, if you're willing.  We don't want you to die, Peter.

"But our time is limited, if we want to avoid their trackers.  I must have your answer.  Will you come with us?"

What if she was lying?  What if the ship held the good guys?  What if she -was- from the ship?  What if, in the end, she was just trying to mess with his head for some sickening kind of kick?

His window at the corner of one of the taller buildings in the area, he saw a dark mass on the street dozens of blocks away, the mass only growing larger and closer.  It looked like a swarm of locusts devouring the streets and buildings.

"Do you see it?"  He swallowed and nodded.  "It's coming for you.  Let us help you.  Otherwise, you can try to escape on your own.  But I'll tell you now, even we can't stop that."  Then he felt the cuffs release.

Soon, he could pick out red and black.  So many...  He felt weak.  Why so many...  Wanting him?  Even if they did have a virus that could kill him, if they were anything like 'his' Deadpool, he was sure he'd die at their hands far sooner than with the virus.  Small spaceships darted over the horizon, coming up much faster.

"Your decision?  I need it now."

"Please."

Over her shoulder, she called out, "Let's head out!"

In a rumble of movement, his mind no longer comprehending much of anything, a group amassed around him and then: *BAMF*


End file.
